My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4)

by Sheridan Jeane

  His eyes darkened and deepened as he seemed to recall exactly what he’d done with his tongue to earn her praise. He glanced down at her mouth, swaying toward her in a movement that was both infinitesimal and undeniable. He wanted her, she was certain of it.

  Then why had he been avoiding her all week?

  She moved closer to bridge the gap separating them, but he shifted back, maintaining his distance. Josephine let out an inaudible huff of frustration. The man was baffling.

  A footman announced their carriage was ready just as Lord Wentworth joined them. She quietly directed the footman to call for her carriage and then handed him a note. “Give this to my coachman and instruct him to deliver it to my housekeeper immediately.”

  Frederick ushered her out the door and into the cold night. A number of stable boys and footmen huddled in a tight clump, probably for warmth. One broke away and hurried over to escort them to their carriage.

  Lord Wentworth stepped to one side and leaned on a slim black cane as the footman opened the carriage door. Frederick moved in front of the young footman and lifted his hand to assist Josephine into the carriage. She glanced at the loose bandages covering his burns and then carefully placed her hand on his forearm rather than risk injuring him further. She slid to the far end of the seat in the carriage, and he settled into the spot next to her.

  “Thank you, Frederick,” she said softly.

  She noted a faint blush suffuse his cheeks.

  “Why did you revert to calling me Lady Harrington? I much prefer it when you call me Josephine.”

  “I’d intended to protect your reputation,” Frederick said, looking faintly embarrassed, “but you seem firmly committed to tarnishing it. Nearly everyone at the ball saw you leave with me.”

  “Fiddlesticks. A widow has much more latitude than a débutante.”

  “Not this much.”

  Was he truly worried about what people thought of her? His concern was sweet, but misguided. “Your brother is with us, and neither of you is rumored to be a rake. My reputation is safe enough.”

  As Lord Wentworth climbed into the carriage, she glanced at him. “You should call me Josephine as well.”

  “Thank you. You must call me Robert.” He claimed the seat opposite them. “It’s quite kind of you to offer your assistance, Josephine.”

  She smiled at his use of her name.

  “She didn’t offer. She insisted.” Frederick turned to frown at her.

  “Fiddlesticks. This will be more expedient. My coachman can collect my housekeeper and bring her to you. You wouldn’t want me sitting outside in the cold waiting for her, would you?”

  Frederick’s expression softened. “Of course not.”

  They sat in an awkward silence for a moment. At least, it was awkward for her. The brothers seemed comfortable with it. She tried to sit there quietly, truly she did, but it wasn’t in her nature.

  “Robert, what did the ambassador want?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. “He seemed quite intent on speaking with you.”

  Robert glanced at Frederick. “Nothing in particular,” he murmured.

  That was no answer. It was an evasion, and she’d had enough of men withholding information from her. She had the feeling Frederick had been doing it all night. She narrowed her eyes at Robert. “He seemed insistent.”

  The corners of Robert’s mouth tensed. “He witnessed our argument and came over to investigate.”

  “Were you able to explain everything to his satisfaction?” Frederick asked, his tone sharp.

  “I mentioned I’d eaten a bad shrimp and had an urgent need to return home. It turned out he already knew about my pretended illness, which I found peculiar.” The brothers shared a glance that seemed full of hidden meaning. “He assumed you were in a temper because of your burned hand.”

  Josephine was appalled. Had the ambassador actually used those words? “‘In a temper’?” she repeated. “Is that how he characterizes a man who is injured during his ball?” Anything that happened to a guest was ultimately his responsibility, including an intoxicated guest who set people on fire. If she had the ambassador in front of her right now, she’d show him exactly what it looked like when someone was in a temper.

  “That’s the proper term to use when anyone lets their anger take control of them in a public setting,” Robert replied, his voice calm.

  “You’re one to talk,” Frederick muttered. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen you lose your temper.”

  Robert ignored the comment. “We need a plan.”

  Frederick inhaled and held his breath for a moment. Josephine had the impression he was attempting to regain his equilibrium after his flash of annoyance. Frederick met his brother’s gaze with a level one. “I assumed you’d prefer to be quit of me and tonight’s entanglements. I know how much you dislike being involved in my work.”

  “Unfortunately, I have the disadvantage of being responsible for” — he glanced at her, obviously not wanting to speak openly— “for what went wrong. I’m already involved, and I plan to rectify my error.”

  More secrets. She found herself mired in them tonight.

  “Hmm,” Frederick replied, sounding more annoyed than convinced. “In that case, it would be best for you to focus on recalling where you’ve seen your thief before. I think we should separate and pursue this problem from different angles. You go after the girl while I focus on the people I believe are behind the” — he glanced at Josephine— “the incident.”

  Something snapped inside her. She’d had enough. He’d heaped lies upon evasions, and now he wanted to go charging off into the night to chase down some thief, burns and all. “You should be resting,” she said in sharp, clipped tones.

  Frederick let out a sigh. “Josephine, more is taking place tonight than is apparent. If you’ll refrain from asking questions for the moment, I’ll do my best to explain everything later.”

  “Of course ‘more is taking place,’” she snapped. Honestly, did he think her such a fool? She shifted in her seat to face him. “I assume it has something to do with your work for the Foreign Office. Is that why you were at the embassy tonight? To spy on the Russians?”

  When Frederick’s jaw dropped, she let a slow smile spread across her face. She’d genuinely surprised him. What a delicious feeling. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll never repeat a word. I’m completely discreet.”

  “How— how long have you known?” Frederick asked.

  “Oh, my. It’s been quite some time now.” She tapped her gloved index finger against her lower lip. “At least a year. Perhaps a bit more.”

  Frederick looked astounded. “And you never confronted me?”

  “I didn’t want to intrude,” she said, holding up her palms in a gesture of denial. “I assumed you’d tell me eventually, but since tonight’s situation appears to be a pressing one, I decided to reveal what I know.” She dropped her hands to her lap as she gave Robert a sympathetic look. “I’m guessing the two of you were forced to improvise after Lord Percival’s fire. That must have been a challenge.”

  Frederick let out an exasperated sigh. “If you knew all of that, why did you follow me upstairs?”

  “I am sorry about that. I didn’t realize you must have been on an assignment until later. I’d make a terrible spy, wouldn’t I? I never considered that I might one day stumble across you while you were on a mission. I always imagined those sorts of tasks taking place in dark, scurrilous places.”

  Frederick held his palm out, gesturing for her to stop. “I really must speak candidly with my brother. I’d rather not involve you in this any further. It’s safer for you if you don’t know anything. We’ll halt the carriage so he and I can walk for a moment.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” she said, affronted. “I’d never betray you. I never said a word about what happened last year with Lord and Lady Huntley, did I? And I never will. Nor will I repeat anything you say in front of me now. Pretend I’m not here.”

  Frederick
remained silent.

  “You already trust her,” Robert said, “otherwise she wouldn’t be in the carriage with us right now. You’d never have permitted it.”

  Josephine felt a rush of gratitude, but she kept her attention focused on Frederick.

  He met Josephine’s gaze. “Trust isn’t the issue,” he said, stroking the back of his left hand against her cloak. That faint, tenuous connection shot a spear of awareness through her chest. “I want to protect you from this part of my life, not drag you into it. But you’re right. I’ve already involved you in this. Too many people saw us leave together.”

  She took a steadying breath, but whether her need for something solid to cling to was driven by his words or his touch, she couldn’t have said. “I can take care of myself,” she insisted. “I’ve been doing so for the past two years.”

  Frederick’s jaw tensed, but after a long pause, he nodded. “Letting you listen won’t put you at any greater risk.”

  Josephine listened as the brothers discussed what had transpired that evening. Listened, but didn’t interrupt. Their objective tonight seemed to have been to acquire a book. A church register, of all things. Apparently the French, the Russians, and the Ottomans wanted it as well. From what she could gather, Frederick and Robert needed to recover it from some unknown woman who had managed to steal it from them before escaping from the embassy.

  What sort of woman was she? She must be a spy. A woman spy. And a skilled one at that. She must be if she could blend in at an embassy ball, fool Robert into letting down his guard, and slip away with the prize. Certainly she was clever, resourceful, and determined. But so was Frederick. So who was the thief working for? Obviously not the British.

  Frederick let out a deep sigh. “If I’m right and the French are behind the theft, I might be able to deduce the identity of the man who orchestrated tonight’s debacle. You mentioned the thief had a key. There aren’t many people who would have been able to acquire one. Nor are there many people with the skills and connections to have choreographed tonight’s events. Your little thief will probably pass along the church register as soon as possible. Once I’ve deduced his identity, I can watch him until she shows herself. As soon as she makes contact, I’ll grab the book.”

  Robert nodded. “It’s a solid plan, as long as you’re certain you know who her contact will be.”

  “That’s the problem. This is my best guess, but since I’m missing key facts, I could be wrong. That’s why I want you to try to locate the woman using your own methods. If we attack the problem from two different directions, we have a better chance of succeeding.”

  Josephine began shaking her head vehemently. “I don’t like this. I know I promised that you wouldn’t know I was here, but I can’t remain silent. You’re injured, you’re tired, and you’ve been drinking. You shouldn’t go haring off alone in the dark after some thief.”

  “I have no choice. You don’t understand the severity of the situation. It is imperative that we recover that book. Everything depends upon it.”

  “Not without my help,” Josephine insisted. When Frederick opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand to silence him and continued speaking. “I’ll accompany you. I refuse to allow you to do this alone. It’s obvious your brother needs to be elsewhere, so I’m the only person who can help you.”

  “I like the plan,” Robert said, surprising her. “The book is too important to allow anything to get in the way. Recovering it has to be our priority.”

  “I know this will come as a surprise to both of you, but I like the plan too,” Frederick said.

  A surge of relief washed through her. “Thank goodness,” she murmured.

  As Frederick went over some details with Robert, Josephine made her own plans. Frederick really shouldn’t go out again. Once he was home, she’d convince him to take better care of himself and retire for the evening. He needed to rest. And if she couldn’t sway him with logic, she’d do her best to soothe him into compliance. Pampering had a way of lowering a man’s defenses and making him more amenable to suggestions. She knew what was best for him, even if he didn’t.

  Just past Hyde Park, Robert banged his cane on the ceiling of the carriage, causing Josephine to jump in fright. He must have done it to get his coachman’s attention, because the carriage pulled to an abrupt halt.

  “What are you doing?” Frederick asked.

  “There’s no need for me to return home with you. I need to remember where I saw that woman, and I’ll think better if I’m walking.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Frederick suppressed his sigh of relief as the carriage pulled up to the entrance of Woolsy House. The tension between him and Josephine had begun to build with his brother’s abrupt departure, but he’d managed to resist breaking the silence. He didn’t want to confront Josephine— not when he felt so miserable and she looked so confident. If she pressed him now, all his secrets would come spilling out, and that could only hurt her. He’d lied to her so many times, he’d lost count. What kind of man treated a woman he cared for in such a disrespectful manner? Only someone callous could be so manipulative.

  That was him. Callous and manipulative. Not at all a suitable match for a woman as vibrant and glorious as Josephine. That much was clear.

  His one solace was that he only lied to protect her, both from the dangers of his life and from the stress and anxiety the truth would bring her. After all, what good would the truth do? None that he could see. She’d only worry about him. Be fearful every time he left for a mission. Truth would cause her pain, and he’d do anything to protect her, even from him.

  Frederick hurried to exit the carriage, avoiding touching the door frame with his injured hand and instead jumping to the pavement.

  As he turned back to face the carriage, Josephine appeared in the open doorway, looking radiant with her glossy blond hair peeking out from beneath the hood of her celadon-blue cloak. He froze for a moment at the sight. Her skin was pale in the moonlight. Her blue eyes with their thick blond lashes caught the reflected light of the lamps flanking his front door, and the flames made them shift and flicker with secrets of her own.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d wondered at Josephine’s depths. She presented a smooth, cool demeanor to the world, but at times she allowed him glimpses of her inner self— the woman who lived within that beautiful exterior.

  He shook off the moment of bemusement and moved closer to offer her his arm to help her descend safely. She placed her hand on his forearm near his elbow in an obvious attempt to avoid touching his burns, just as she’d done back at the embassy.

  As they climbed the steps leading to his front door, it swung open. Landon, his butler, stood at the entrance.

  A wave of relief surged through him as he entered his home, taking him by surprise. He held Josephine a bit more tightly for a moment, unaccountably pleased to have her here.

  “Good evening, sir,” Landon said, “and good evening, Lady Harrington.” His normally impassive face suddenly betrayed him as his assessing butler’s glance landed on Frederick’s bandaged hands. His eyes widened in surprise.

  “My housekeeper will be arriving shortly,” Josephine said. “She’s bringing materials to make a poultice for Frederick’s burns,. Please send her to the drawing room when she arrives.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Landon replied. “Shall I bring some ice while you wait?” At Frederick’s raised eyebrow, the butler cleared his throat. “In my experience, the cold from the ice draws out the heat from the burns. It should alleviate some of your pain.”

  Frederick gave a shrug. “Bring it.” The bundle of ice he’d held at the Russian embassy had helped. He was more than willing to try it again. With Landon’s assistance, he slid out of his coat and managed not to brush the sleeves against his burns.

  He glanced at Josephine as she shed her cloak, arching her back in the process. The scooped neckline of her gown and her lustrous pearl necklace drew his attention to her perfectly rounded breasts as t
hey momentarily pressed toward him. The stunning sight made his mouth go dry.

  Frederick whipped around and strode toward the drawing room without waiting for Landon’s reply. He knew he was behaving rudely by walking away from Josephine so abruptly, but he needed to distance himself from her, if only briefly. She followed him as he entered the room, but she stayed far enough away for him to regain his composure.

  Ruthlessly, he turned his thoughts back to the book— back to his duty. Tonight had been a disaster. These next few hours would be crucial if he had any hope of recovering from it.

  His hands throbbed with pain as the effects of the vodka wore off. Perhaps he should take another drink— but no. He needed to keep his wits about him. Pain might slow his thinking process, but alcohol would be much worse.

  A moment later, Landon entered the room carrying a large container of ice. He spread out a small towel as he began preparing to assemble a bundle of ice, but Josephine shooed him away. “I’d prefer to do that,” she said. “Can you wait for my housekeeper and bring her here as soon as she arrives?”

  Landon gave a stiff nod and left the room. Josephine turned her attention to vigorously attacking the small block of ice with the ice pick, breaking it into smaller chunks. Watching her breasts bob with her effort had a mesmerizing effect on Frederick.

  “Here,” she said a few glorious moments later, turning toward him and handing him the bundle of ice chips. “Sit for a moment and let the ice numb some of the pain. I’ll pour you another drink.”

  “No more spirits,” he said, swallowing as he accepted the bundle. He dropped heavily onto the garnet-colored sofa. “You know, you don’t need to take care of me. Landon is quite capable of doing so.” Frederick pressed the cloth to his hand and almost sighed with relief as he felt the cold seep into his fingertips. “Although I must admit, you are a much more pleasant companion than he is. Much more attractive too.”